#crybaby.bkg.gojober

[crybaby-bkg]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮

Day two of gojober! Warnings: implied gojo x getou, faerie gojo x human reader, aphrodisiac through faerie food, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, smut, riding, unprotected sex, mating bond, public sex, orgy, come eating, bloody kisses, biting. please let me know if I missed anything!! Word count: 7.7k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI Also available on Ao3 Masterlist can be found here

Growing up, there were loads of folklore about the faeries you coexisted with in the world. Tales of pixies giving haircuts for the price of your shiniest coin. Of selkies making trades for lungs to give one gills for an hour a day, something to switch places. Tales of brownies cleaning up your house in the night, as long as you left out cheese on the countertops. Of trolls and nymphs and goblins and sirens.

For the longest time, people liked them, learned how to coexist with them until—until they learned that the faerie king is dead. And with him went the peace treaties and the sharing of lands and fauna and kindness. Now replaced with unsettled feelings and unsure fear resting in humans bellies, a growing pit of hunger in the faeries.

But before things start to become unruly, the fae gave word of message with any and every mean that they could; from the awkward mouths of deer with too black eyes, written into the dust of one’s windows, carried in the whispers of the wind. They all give the same message; a new King is coming, and with him, comes change.

It leaves everyone unsettled, terrified, on edge. Will this faerie king bring back the violence that was bestowed upon humans centuries ago? Will they be hunted for sport again? Kept as slaves? As livestock to feed from and fuck and hunt and breed whenever they so desired?

It’s why the leaders of your village give all of you the warning to stay on guard. To be on high alert, to keep away from the woods that dwindle with the Folk, to make sure the strangers you meet have five fingers, no more, no less. (The changelings still have a little trouble with mimicking the depth of humans, but sometimes the soul sucking leers they give you are all the notice that you need.)

It’s why you know you should ignore the humming of saccharine sweet voices that glide through the air, slides against the open pane of your window. You know those calls, have heard them near the shores of lakes, accompanied by too sharp teeth and misshapen faces. Have heard the heart stopping music that makes you dance and dance until the soles of your feet bleed and you drop from exhaustion.

You should ignore it. The leaders of your village would tell you to ignore it.

And everyone else does, too. There’s not a single soul outside, wandering the streets, following the music and the food and the singing deep into the heart of the woods. Orders were to stay in after dark, to put fresh berries and pies on your doorstep to keep the Folk kind, less they change their minds about their appetites for human flesh.

So why does the music call to you so loudly? So enticingly, that you’re not even sure your head is on all the way as you climb from your window, sure not to wake your family in your venturing outside. It could be dangerous. There could be a boggart lingering in the high grass, ready to snatch you and take you back to Faerie, but the music calls for you too loudly to ignore. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to find the heart of the music, in the middle of the woods. You dance lightly on your feet all the way there, your eyes closed as you hum along to the enticing melodies, your body somehow knowing the path along the way. You don’t trip or stumble, don’t scratch your cheeks on leering branches, or find a boggart ready to snack on your bones and flesh. 

After what could be minutes or hours, do you finally find the heart of the festivities. There are no humans here, you remark to yourself as you scan the expansive area. However, there are all kinds of Folk here; small and huge, flesh colored and gray and green skinned, sharp teeth and gaping hole where a mouth should be, colorless eyes and unnaturally stained ones, all of their teeth ready to devour. You give pause when the attention is turned to you, and you wonder if they’ll at least knock you unconscious before they begin passing you around like an apple tart on a silver platter. You should’ve brought iron. 

But instead of tearing into you, one faerie grabs your hand and dances with you. Its an orc, who’s almost doubled your height, with slicked green skin and two sharp fangs that protrude from the bottom half of his mouth. He says something to you in a language you don’t understand, but it makes you laugh, for some reason, anyway. You’re passed off to a pixie next, who’s too small to properly hold, but she buzzes around your head, placing flowers too vibrant to be found in the human realms in your hair.

And the rest of the night seems to go that way; passed off from Folk to Folk, all welcoming, all giving you some piece of a gift you’re not really sure what to do with. But you accept it all anyway, feeling more at home than you have in a long time. 

You’re pulled into a faerie circle by the end of the night, winded and full of the foods that some have given you. You were always warned to never eat or drink anything from the Fae, but they offered it so kindly, how could you resist? How could you resist when the flavors of meats and pies you’ve never even heard of tastes like ambrosia? Like a sweet afterlife that you can dip your fingers into without the eternity of it all capturing you? 

So you dance and dance and laugh and laugh until your ribs ache and your feet begin to blister and your belly becomes full, but never quite full enough. You think you could die here, peaceful, happy, knowing that your last moments were spent so joyously, that to live another second without it, would be more painful than the death that followed. 

But someone pulls you from the circle, and it feels like time has suddenly caught up to you. The sun creeps over the horizon, despite the fact that when you had arrived, the moon still rested high in between the clouds. How could you have danced for so long, that a new day has begun? What will your parents think? Oh gods, you have to get back to them—

“Does my face scare you that badly, that you flee at the first sight of me?” A quiet voice pulls you from your thoughts, your head snapping to attention. You’re greeted by an almost ethereal kind of beauty; he’s a Fae, obviously, but one of the more…human, looking ones. He stands taller than you, his form lithe beneath the pure white linens and silks he wears, that drapes around his form. They match the purity of his hair, that seemingly glistens as the suns first rays hits the crown of his head. His face is pale, and the only thing that makes him obviously Fae are the pointed ears, and the lack of an iris; the entirety of his eyes where the white should be, instead glossed over with an oceanic blue that stuns you at the first sight of it. The fae grins crookedly at your gaping, placing a hand on his hip as he cocks his head at you. 

“Or has the wine run out of your system?” He teases with a wink. It brings you out of your stupor, and you can’t help but let out a little breathless laugh. You shake your head at him, before nodding your chin in greeting. 

“My apologies,” you say softly, knowing better than to ask him for his name. They were a sacred thing amongst the Fae, and just as sacred if you gave them out, too, as a human. But something about the otherworldly looking faerie made you want to give it all to him. You knew better, unfortunately for him. 

“Apologizing to a Fae? You must want to make it up to me, then.” He grins at you, pretty and scary all at once, his teeth too white, his canines too sharp. You could smack yourself on the head for forgetting. 

“All these word rules with you Folk,” you groan with a playful roll of your eyes. The faerie laughs, the sound elegant and soft, his sharp chin tipped back in mirth at the way you grin at him.   His laughter teeters out, the sound seemingly carried through the soft wind, rustling what you first thought was a tree, before it smiled and began walking toward the dancing circle. Your eyes slide back over to the faerie in front of you, a shadow suddenly casted over the brightness of his eyes, the corners of his lips upturned elegantly. 

“I’ll let you off the hook easily.” He promises you, holding a hand out for you to join. But you eye it warily, wiggling your own fingers in his directions. 

“Oh yeah? By only eating nine of my fingers, and not ten?” You inquire with a cock of your eyebrow, something deep inside of you screaming for you to not give him any kinds of ideas. But the faerie only smiles, easily sliding his lithe, cold fingers against your own wiggling ones. 

“Technically its eight fingers and two thumbs, but who’s counting?” He says playfully, to which you shoot him a look. He grins at you, all teeth, and it unnerves some deep, primal part of you that you try to smother. The faerie begins to lead you deeper into the party, toward a gray marbled dais that you hadn’t noticed before. It must’ve been for the Faerie King, who had passed on from—well, now that you think about it, you don’t really know how the old King died.

“No, I’d like you to make it up to me by dancing with me.” He stops short of the dais, where a huge circle rests in front of the empty throne. The middle of the circle has grass fresher than the blades just a foot outside of the circle, velvety purple flowers springing higher and higher the more faeries dance around it. It seems to bloom with every passing second, and you watch as some of the partygoers snatch a few up, either eating the flowers whole or crushing them into their wines. 

“If you insist.” You murmur under your breath as you watch the strange tradition. But the faerie only chuckles quietly at you, pulling you behind him as he walks toward the circle. Quickly, do the others in dancing along the circle start to peter off one by one, until only you and the blue eyed faerie are left. He holds you against him, chest to chest, your feet carrying you better than they ever have with the other boys in your village. You dance forward and backwards, spinning and dipping, laughter spilling from your lips all the while as you somehow keep up with this faerie who has to have been made for the purpose of bringing forth elegance into the world. 

After the sun has finally come up, resting high and bright in the sky, do you finally slow down. You know you should be leaving soon, should get back to your family, but the faerie slows his steps, his arms around your waist, his head ducked down to whisper in your ear. 

“So, why are you here?” He asks suddenly, making you purse your lips in confusion as you pull away from him. You still dance parallel to him, more of a sway of your hips as he stalks toward you, round and round the circle. 

“Oh, so you ask me to dance just to kick me out right after? I thought the Fae had manners.” You chide, folding your arms over your chest as you change the routine, now stalking toward him. The faerie smiles, bright, hands up disarmingly as he follows your lead, reaching out to lay a hand on your hip. 

“No, to both of those. Have you ever met a Dryad who’s hungry?” He cocks his head to one in the far corner, who bites at an elf who strays too close. You can’t help the snicker that leaves you, before you turn back to the faerie. 

“I meant, why are you the only human here?” The faerie returns your attention to him, his words soft, hushed, only for you to hear. He continues on before you can answer with a cock of his head. “I know your people have been scared, and are staying away from us for the time being. So why come?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, stepping closer so that you can hold him around the neck again. “I can’t really explain it. The music just called to me, and nobody else. That’s when I knew I had to follow it.” 

You look up at him with such honest eyes, that his face settles softly from the tense expression he hadn’t even realized he’s been wearing. He stares at you, for an almost unsettlingly long time, his mouth curving up just the slightest bit as he dips his head at you. 

“Just the answer I was looking for.” He whispers against the curve of your cheek, leaving your face feeling heated, his hands skimming over the softness of you through your clothes. But the moment he pulls away, you get this suddenly sinking feeling in your stomach, like somethings not right. You knew faeries could be tricky beings, but what could you have said that could incriminate you? What could you have done for him to look at you suddenly, not like the human he danced with, but as the prey he now lusted for? 

“Thank you to everyone for the festivities.” He suddenly says, pulling you both from the circle, despite the fact that your feet wish to continue dancing. Its an unbalancing feeling, being snatched away from the circle that you knew had led to many deaths, and yet you wished for just a moment more. But you can’t focus on that, as you suddenly realize that everyone has turned to face you two, their eyes locked on where the faerie holds your hand in his own. 

“As your new Fae King, I will not bow to my people,” The faerie says with a shit eating little grin, makes a few chuckles and murmurs fall upon the crowd but—but you pause. Your body tenses up at the realization, at the sinking, dizzying realization that this faerie…the one you had danced with and laughed with and spent the majority of your night with…was the newly appointed King that had warned everyone in your kingdom. 

What the actual fuck was going on? Why the fuck didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t anyone say anything? You look toward the empty dais, wonder if he had sat there before you had been lured to the festivities, if he watched you up there while you were passed from fae to fae. How hadn’t you noticed? How could you be so foolish? This was all a trap; it had to be! A ploy to see which human would take the bait, any excuse to accuse humanity of trying to tip the balance, any excuse for them to go into town and slaughter and enslave all of your people. 

How could you be so fucking foolish?

“But I do tip my head to you, as your music has helped my new mate find her place amongst us. Let us welcome her to her new home.” The faerie smiles, wide and proud, holding a cup that an elf had handed to him while your mind raced and—wait. Wait a fucking second now. 

Your head whips to the faerie, who stares out at his people, proud, his chest puffed, his chin held high. You sputter, looking for words, where all fail you. You feel a primal sort of panic start to overcome you, and you’re not entirely sure that you’re breathing right now. 

“She’s taking this a lot better than the last one, that’s for sure,” you hear from a dry voice amongst the crowd, a black haired faerie with big pointed ears who tips his head to the other fae at your side. It kicks you into reality, your internal panic suddenly becoming physical as you gasp, ripping yourself away from the blue eyed fae. He only smiles at you, as if he were expecting this exact reaction, as if surprised it took you this long to push him away. 

“What the fuck?” Is all you can get out through your quick breaths, your chest suddenly feeling too tight, the open space of the woods suddenly feeling too closed in with all the creatures inhabiting it. “Your mate? My new home? What the fuck are you on about, you fucking—”

“Ah, I think it’s best that you not finish that sentence.” The faerie smiles at you, and suddenly its not so carefree anymore. Its strained, pulled tight at the corners, makes his dimples look like cuts from the last victim trying to claw their way from his greedy hands. “Don’t want to insult your new King, and fuck up the treaty between us and humans, now, would you?” 

It’s a threat, and an obvious one at that. You suck in a shaky breath, looking around for help, any kind, from anybody. But they all smile at the two of you, someone even raising a glass, toasting to the new king and his newly found mate. You think you might throw up. 

The faerie grabs your hand, but you snatch away from him with a shaky growl. Your eyes well with tears; this was a trap. This whole night was a trap, and you were to be the sacrifice for your people. Did everyone know, but you? Did you parents know? Did only these forest dwelling creatures know with their enchanted magical music? Are you just a pawn in the grander scheme of things? 

The faerie only smiles at you, though, like you’re some child that can be easily disarmed with a lollipop and a pat on the head. He picks you up before you can protest, holding you tight to his chest as you begin to wriggle around, screaming out in protest. But no one comes to your aid. They only watch, bowing as he passes them, leading you up, up, up to the dais where a single throne sits. 

“We’ll get one made for you after we consummate our newly formed bond.” The faerie whispers against your cheek. You can feel the leering smile, the sharp teeth that scrape your skin with every word. You flinch away from him, suddenly hot at the thought of having to be intimate with such a tricky creature. 

“I’d rather slit my own throat.” You growl at the faerie, who only pouts at you before he plops down on the throne with you over his lap. Your legs hang off the sides of the cold, expansive seat, your back propped up against his arm as he turns you to face him. 

“But its such a pretty throat,” he purrs, his eyes lidded, his smile feline. It would be an alluring sight if the gravity of the situation hadn’t settled in five minutes ago. Instead of swooning, you scrunch your nose at him, trying to pull away as far as you can but the faerie only holds you tight to him. 

“We had such a good time, just a minute ago. Don’t you want to continue it?” He asks, nuzzling his frigid nose against the column of your throat. It tips your head back the slightest bit, exposes your jugular, the way your heartbeat settles against the thin flesh there. You swallow thickly, pushing him away by the shoulders, and he lets you. (It’s important to remember, that as the Faerie King, he let you.)

“It was all under the guise of a trick, a lie.” You snarl at him, your faces suddenly too close, his eyes too blue. They only blink at you, faux innocent, his stark white eyebrows curving up ever so slightly as if in confusion. 

“You know we Folk can’t lie, sweetheart.” He chides you, softly, as if you were a mere child. The brush of his soft knuckles against the swell of your cheek is condescending, and you try to shake him off. He doesn’t let you. Instead, he palms your cheek and jaw in his hand, tilting your head toward him, despite how you try to crane your neck away. He watches the tears well in your eyes, the way your teeth grit in frustration, feels the way your nails dig into the skin of his arms, trying to pull him back. He sees the anger. He soothes it with a sweet, saccharine kiss to the tip of your nose as a single tear escapes the corner of your eye. 

“But you deceived me.” You spit at him, gritting your words through your teeth. “You knew I was the only human who had shown up, meaning I would be connected to you in some way.” He doesn’t deny it. Simply turns your head this way and that as if examining you, pressing soft, simple kisses in the wake of your salty tears. When he doesn’t say anything, you look out to the crowd of creatures who watch you with leering eyes, gathering round the dais, as if waiting for the show, as if hanging on to your every, crying word. 

“And you’re the fucking King. What the fuck?” You whisper, even though you’re sure the other fae can hear you with their stupidly good hearing. Some of them snicker, others baring their teeth at you for speaking to their king like that. But you don’t flinch, don’t waver, just sit in a shaking ball of fury as the faerie holds you to him even closer, until you’re sure that his very fingertips brush against the bone of your ribs. 

“Would it better if we had this conversation elsewhere?” The faerie asks against the curve of your cheek, his voice mischievous, his smile sneaky. Before you can answer, he stands with you in his arms, taking a step off of the dais, but time seems to move differently in those few seconds. 

One moment, you’re in the open forest with all kinds of creatures staring back at you, with tables full of wine and food to feed an entire village. And in the next second, you’re plopped down onto a bed too big for one person, too soft to be made in the human realm, and a blue eyed faerie grinning at you from where he stands beside the bed. 

You sit up jerkily, clutching your chest as you suck in breath after breath, looking around the room, trying to take in as much as you can. 

“Where am I? What the fuck did you do?” You ask him in a rasp, hair mussed from where he threw you on the bed. The room is huge, the bed barely even taking up half of it. It seems to be alive, the room, as things start to move the longer you look at them—the dresser begins to split into two, which moves an adjacent door down a bit to make room, the desk in the corner scoots itself over until its tucked in discreetly, the sheets on the bed roll down to welcome you under the covers—

“What the fuck?” You scream again, trying to jump off of the moving bed, when the faerie catches you in his arms. You stand on your knees before him as he holds you by the upper arms, his smile wide and infectious, but there isn’t much for you to find humor in, at the moment. 

“Just a little faerie magic,” he says nonchalantly, with a lift of his shoulders. You can only look at him incredulously for a moment before the tears begin to well in your eyes again. At that, his face falls, ever so slightly, his mouth pouting as he lowers you into a sitting position once more, tucking you in against his side. 

“C’mon now, don’t cry. I’m sure your life here is gonna be so much better than how you had to live before.” He says softly into your hair, wrapping you up tightly in his embrace, makes you feel suffocated. You pull away from him, wiping your face with the backs of your hands as you narrow your eyes at him in frustration. 

“I’m sure it will be,” you snap, aware of how the magic in Faerie improves the lives of so many, “but the entire point is that I didn’t have a choice.” Your words are spitting, your hackles raised like some feline ready to pounce. The faerie only frowns at you, his hands twisting against the other in his lap, seemingly unsettled by the distance put between the two of you. 

“You know, I didn’t either, technically.” He rebuts, his pink mouth set in a soft pout, the blue of his eyes dimming ever so slightly as he casts his gaze down to the silken sheets. They’re blue like his eyes, except for maybe a shade lighter, woven with white thread to create some sort of language you can’t understand. It would be prettier if you weren’t here against your will. 

“But at least you knew about this whole mate thing, in the first place. It blindsided me.” Your voice is pleading, cracking as you grip your chest in pain. You were enough of a dreamer to romanticize almost any and every situation and scenario. But it was always based on the consent of it all, the knowledge of what was to come. Maybe if you had known about this whole mate situation before tonight, you would’ve reacted better. Would’ve came dressed in your prettiest gown and nicest shoes, with your fingernails painted, and your hair woven through with the flowers from your garden. 

But you hadn’t known anything. You were just thrown into this entire situation without any care or regard of how it would make you feel, make your family feel. Did they even know that you were gone, unlikely to ever return to your home again? 

“Would it make you feel better if I told you my name?” The faerie says softly, breaking you from your train of thought. Your head whips up at that, your eyes wide in surprise as you take in his slumped over form. He looks childlike in the moment, with his pout and downcast eyes, despite the sinewy muscles you make out through the sheer fabric of his tunic. 

Faeries sharing their names, their true names, is something sacred. It gives the user a sort of power over them, the ability to control and manipulate however one sees fit. They do not pass out their names often, and when they do, it is a huge sign of respect and submission. 

“You would do that?” You ask him quietly, scooting forward until your knees brush against each other, hesitantly reaching for his hand. Its cold against your own, soft and clammy in the center. You have just met—does he know what kind of power he’s giving you, a mere human, supposedly his mate, by entrusting you with his name? 

“Satoru.” He says, gently, the word a whisper that carries through the stale air of the room. You suck in a deep breath, tilting your head at him—at Satoru—in astonishment. The softness of the name fits him, his unblinking eyes and wide gaze, the gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his top lip, the jut of his sharp chin. 

“Thank you.” You say truthfully, squeezing his hands in both of yours, feeling a little less intimidated at the seconds pass by. Satoru only smiles at you, gentle, the makings of a dimple deepening in his right cheek. He takes you in, waiting for you to command him to do something evil, wicked, to let you go and sever your mating bond with the use of his true name. 

But you only sit there in amazement, taking all of him in as if its your first time seeing him tonight. It makes him swallow thickly, the vulnerability of your gaze eating away at him. He speaks when the seconds tick on for entirely too long. 

“Now, have some wine. It’ll help you feel better.” Satoru murmurs, pulling his hand from yours, albeit hesitantly, and stretching it to the corner of the room beside him. You watch as a silver chalice seems to materialize out of nowhere, floating on the wind in the room that you hadn’t felt seconds beforehand, before it nestles in the grip of his palm. He offers the wine to you, and without a second thought, do you drink it. 

It’s too late when you realize that this wine isn’t like the other drinks you had at the festivities, of what you may now think of as your engagement party. The thought makes you giggle, before you slap a hand over your mouth, confusion bleeding on your face. You smack your lips together, and suddenly the taste of the wine that lingers isn’t enough. You have to finish all of it—now. 

You tip your head back, taking in gulps of the wine. Your brain yells at you to stop, warns you that something isn’t right, but you can’t listen to it right now. You have to finish, have to consume all of the wine that seemingly goes on forever and ever, the bottom of the cup never reaching the twinkle of your eye. It tastes like heaven; it tastes like ambrosia; a mix of lavender and dewy grass on a spring morning; a mix of the suns rays itself; a mix of the moon’s craters chiseled off and dumped into the cup; a mix of your mate’s kiss; of something otherworldly. 

The wine runs down your neck in rivulets that you cannot stop yourself from spilling. But your mate—gods, how that sounds so good, suddenly—cleans you up with a flick of his tongue against the spilling nectar. Your head tips back until it rests on your shoulders, your throat bobbing with every gulp until the chalice runs empty. Only then, do you sit forward, gasping for air, a buzz underneath your flesh, lingering in your skin, makes you feel—ethereal. 

“Why,” you start, smacking your lips as you heave in and out for breaths. “Why do I feel this way? Why does the wine make me feel like this, now?”

Satoru already knows what you mean, and grins against the column of your throat. He scoops you easily into his lap, where you straddle his thighs, sitting on your knees before you collapse into a heap onto his chest. Your body grows hot, your head fuzzy, a smile unable to fall from your face as your arms wrap loosely around his broad shoulders. There’s a buzz in your lower stomach, makes you feel almost a physical pull to your mate—your mate—as you whimper low in your throat. 

“Did you ever fill your own cup?” He purrs, pulling you away from the crook of his neck so that he can really see you now. Your face is flushed, your lips already swelling from the contents of the wine, ready to be kissed and nipped and licked until the wine runs from your system. Your eyes grow hazy with every passing second, and he can smell the arousal starting to pool between your thighs. You look embarrassed for only a second, before that dopey smile creeps back onto your face the longer you look at him—your mate. 

“At the ceremony, after I was crowned, I was told that my mate, a human, would find their way into the midst of our gathering.” Satoru tells you, laying back on the bed, softly, slowly, like some snake charmer goading you into its hold. You go willingly, feeling a burning sensation low in your belly, the primal part of your brain telling you that its something only your mate can fix. You wriggle on the soft sheets, suddenly burning up, suddenly needing all of your clothes off and away from you, suddenly needing to feel your mate’s skin against your own, his flesh between your teeth. 

“And to keep my mate from doing anything foolish, from ruining their purity with other creatures, only human-safe wine and food would be served.” Satoru’s voice is akin to a purr, his smile sharp. You let him undress you, help him pull the dress from over your head, your stockings from your legs, your undergarments from your sticky skin until you lay bare in front of him. He licks his lips at the sight of you, of your human flesh, so easy to corrupt, so easy to tear into. But he’s gentle where he presses kisses against your navel, travels down, down, down, until his lips hover where you need him most. 

“Kiss me there,” you plead for him, your body feeling scorched, engulfed in invisible flames that only he can lick away. Satoru hums at you, ever a loving mate, and follows your very command. He kisses you at the apex of your cunt, your clit throbbing almost painfully from the softness of his mouth. You keen, high in your throat, your back already arching from the bed, your nails tangled in the wispiness of his fluffy hair. 

“And once the sun rose,” Satoru whispers against your drooling lips, licking the wetness there with a flick of his tongue. “And the human stayed and danced and sung with my people, then it would be official; you would become my mate.” 

Its hard trying to keep up with what he says when the flames from inside of you only seem to alight more when he nuzzles his nose against the hair on your mound. You push his head to your hole, whimpering low in your throat when he laughs softly at your antics. 

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, angling your hips this way and that, desperate for him to kiss your clit again. And he does—presses kiss after kiss until his tongue comes out to play, until his lips suction around the swollen bud and you can’t help the cry that rips from your throat at the overwhelming feeling. 

“I gave you the faerie wine, just to help calm you down, you know?” Satoru hums, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, as he teases the pad of his finger against your dripping hole. You try to fuck yourself down on it, but he pulls away with a little tut, making your eyes water. 

“Please,” you whimper, looking down the length of your body at Satoru, who blinks big, oceanic eyes up at you, almost innocently. But you can see the way that his mouth curls up into a grin at the sight of your teary eyes, almost as if in anticipation of how much he could break you before you would beg. 

He eases a finger inside of you, eyes eating up the way your mouth drops open and your eyes flutter shut all the while. He kisses the apex of your thighs, before lightly flicking the tip of your clit with his tongue. He curls his finger inside of you, softly stroking the wetness of your walls, feels how you clamp down so tightly around him. He groans, his mouth vibrating against your skin as you throw your head back with the softest moan he thinks he’s ever heard. 

He rushes you to your orgasm, after that, done with the teasing, ready to solidify your bonds as mates. Satoru curls in a second finger, wraps hungry lips around your clit and licks you at the same time his fingers abuse that soft spot inside of you. You don’t know how he found it so easily, when the boys in your village never could after hours of trying, but you think you may understand why he’s your mate now. He works you as if this isn’t his first time touching you, tasting you, unraveling you on his mouth and fingers until your back arches from the bed, and you’re crying out from the pleasure. 

You cum around his fingers, walls tightening around him, clit pulsing steadily as you gasp for breath. Satoru doesn’t release you until you push at his head, whining from the overstimulation, and yet still so greedy to feel him inside of you. He pulls his fingers from your soft hole, sucks the nectar of your cunt from his fingers, his eyes fluttering shut, white lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he moans at the taste of you. 

He doesn’t have to pull you up before you’re on him, standing on your knees in front of him as you pull his mouth to your own. He kisses you, fervent and hungry, and you meet him with such intense fervor, that you’re not sure where your body ends and his begins. Your hands cradle his nape, and you can feel the rigidness of his cock brushing against your naked stomach. You grab his hand in your own, sucking the lingering taste of you from beneath his nails, from the grooves of his fingerprints, earning you a deep groan from the bass of his throat. 

He pulls away from you, breathless, and in the blink of an eye, his clothes disappear from his body. You take all of him in; the milkiness of his skin, the scars that decorate his chest and torso, the pinks of his pert nipples, the hard plane of his stomach, his long cock that stands at attention, the tip angry and red and leaking where it swipes against your skin. 

“I want you.” You tell him, unsure if the wine is still in your system, or if the pretty specimen in front of you overrides your senses that much. Satoru only grins, humming under his breath as he pulls you onto him, falling onto the sheets and the pillows behind him. You straddle him once more, his cock pressed between your bodies, and you can feel the heat radiating from the shaft. 

“Then take me.” Satoru whispers, his eyes half lidded, large, warm hands resting on the swell of your hips. He doesn’t guide you, merely holds onto your body as you position yourself over his cock. You swipe the head over your cunt a few times, mixing your wetness with his precum, your eyes fluttering at the sensation. His tip kisses your clit, and you can’t help but lean forward and take his mouth as you start to sit on his cock. 

Its thick, you think to yourself as you gasp against his mouth, feeling it split you open second by second. You don’t stop yourself, determined to feel all of him inside of you, desperate to be full of your mate, to have his tip kiss your womb, to be one with him. Satoru groans against your lips, his nails biting into your skin as you sink lower and lower, until your hips meet his own, the curliness of your pubes resting against his fluffy white ones. 

“My mate,” you whisper against him, head rolling at the thought of everything that happened tonight. Just hours ago, you were a regular human, doing your everyday chores, settling for human boys who would never truly love you. And now—and now you sit on the Faerie King’s cock, kissing him with such fervor, that drool slides from the corners of your mouth to pool in the divot of his throat. 

“Mine,” Satoru groans against you, unable to help himself from bucking inside of you when you sit for too long. You move, slowly, dipping your head down to watch how your lips try to swallow the thickness of him when you pull out, only to nestle him inside of you when you sit back down. You repeat the motion, watching how his hips shift this way and that from the slow pace, his thighs trembling when you clench around him. 

When you start to gain your rhythm, do you begin to pick up the pace, just a little. Its torturous for Satoru, but he thinks having you on top of him would drive him crazy, anyway. He holds onto you, his mouth gaping as he sucks in breath after breath, trying to keep from overwhelming you and taking over how he so pleased. You reach forward and swipe your tongue against his teeth, making his lips grit as he growls under his breath. 

“I know humans can be a little finicky about consummating their bonds, especially in front of other people.” Satoru says suddenly, holding you still when you sit back down on his cock again. He grinds himself inside of you, makes you whimper as your eyes flutter shut, biting at your bottom lip to keep from getting too loud. But he pulls your lip from your teeth with his thumb, desperate to hear just how good he feels inside of you. 

“It’s why I gave you the wine,” he confesses, pulling you close to him until your chest rubs against his own, burying his face into your throat as you throw your head back. He keeps a slow grinding rhythm inside of you, sneaks a hand down to fondle your clit between lithe fingers, before you feel a grin sneak onto his face. 

“To ease into this.” Suddenly, the quiet of the room is replaced by the sounds of laughter and music and—and moans. Your head whips around behind you, finding yourself seated on the dais once more at the ceremony for you and your mate. You begin to feel panic arising in you, but Satoru eases a hand down the curve of your spine, seemingly putting you under that same trance that the wine had with just the touch of his skin. 

As you start to look around the festivities, sure that you two would be the focus of the night, you find that the other partygoers are a little too…preoccupied with their own activities. The party has devolved into an orgy, it seems, and it hits you why your parents never wanted you to party with the forest creatures when you were a teenager. You would plead that the previous King had forbade the Folk from doing any kind of physical harm to humans, but you realize now, that they weren’t afraid of you being eaten or maimed. 

“It shows unity, between our people,” Satoru suddenly speaks up in your ear, nipping at the lobe when your attention strays from him for entirely too long. You watch as an orc throws his head back while four different pixies jerk him off at the same time, their bodies too tiny to do it alone. You switch to the nymph bent over a table of food, being pleasured by a Dryad whose back hunches with every thrust. You watch the black haired faerie from earlier, who winks at you when you look to him, sitting alone and touching himself as he watches you and his new king. It makes your face burn. 

“As the new King fucks his mate, his people fuck each other, to show that they approve, that there will be no hostility, that they will listen like the good Folk that they are.” Satoru hums, takes the initiative to hold you by the cheek so that you can give him all of your attention. He’s greedy like that, but you don’t seem to mind. 

Instead, you dive in for another kiss, let him lift your hips and drop you down on his cock until your ass smacks against the muscles of his thighs. It creates a resounding smack that echoes through the forest, even louder than the orgy that goes on behind you. You seem to forget about everything, everybody, except for you mate in front of you, inside of you. 

“Mate,” you repeat for the nth time tonight, holding him close around his shoulders as you lick along the openness of his mouth. Satoru groans, his arms wrapped tight around you, smothering, as he plants his feet on the cold marble of his throne. He pistons his hips inside of you, holding you still, as he leans forward to bite the expanse of your throat. You cry out as he breaks the skin, gripping his hair tight in between your fists until you’re sure you’ve ripped out a few strands. 

But he doesn’t mind, lets you use him and bite him and scratch at him until you’re tipping over the edge, crying out in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you. Satoru fucks you through it, cooing softly when your head tips back, and your body goes taut in his grip. He holds you tight to him, ripping sharp teeth from your flesh, angling your head to his so that he can kiss you with a bloodied mouth. 

And you let him, moaning and crying against him as he uses you, uses your body, your cunt to help him reach his own high. Satoru stills, releasing a shaky groan against your red mouth, spilling his release inside of you with long, thick spurts. It leaks from inside of you, spills from around your swollen lips to his heavy balls, slides down the throne and onto the marble dais beneath you. It flows and flows until it mixes into the grass, and with heavy eyes, do you look over your shoulder, and find that black haired faerie dipping his fingers into it. 

He swipes up the mixture of you and Satoru’s cum, popping it into his mouth, maintaining eye contact all the while. It makes you shiver, and you can feel your mate’s cock throb inside of you at the sight, at the feeling of your cunt pulsating around him. 

“That’s my courtier, Getou,” Satoru whispers against the roundness of your cheek, stroking your cunt softly with his fingers. It makes you shiver, watching as the courtier nods his head to you before slipping away into the rest of the festivities. “I’m sure he would like to make your acquaintance very soon.”

And by the tone of his voice, you’re sure that Satoru isn’t the only faerie you’ll become close with in your time here. 

thank you all so much for reading! kind comments/likes/reblogs are so greatly appreciated! <3

[crybaby-bkg]

𝓬𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻

Day one of gojober Warnings: omega verse, omega gojo x beta reader, bottom gojo, this is all about his pleasure I fear, cock slapping, coming untouched, feminization (referring to him as princess, calling his hole a pussy). I think that's all but pls tell me if I missed anything!! Word count: 3.5k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI Also available on Ao3 Masterlist can be found here

Your neighbor was, for lack of better words, an asshole. He constantly had company coming in and out of his place, held parties at all hours of the night, invited partners over who were never considerate of their volume level. He was annoying, and despite your few complaints taped to his door, he never really stopped. 

But you had finals the next week, and the incessant noises coming from his apartment was starting to make your eye twitch. With a huff, you quickly stand to your feet, stomping from your bedroom to the front door, swinging the door open. Your knock could barely be heard over the loud music playing, but you don’t stop until the music pauses, and footsteps start to approach the door. 

You fold your arms over your chest tightly, infuriated at his audacity to play such loud music so late at night. But your anger dissipates, just a slither, when your neighbor opens the door. 

You’ve always assumed your neighbor, Gojo, was an alpha. He stood over six feet tall, had thick muscles you could always make out through his thin clothes, always had partners over. He stood with an air of confidence surrounding him on a constant basis, his head held high no matter where he went. Its why you’re a bit surprised when he answers the door shirtless, his pink nipples puffy and swollen, and a pair of cinnamoroll pajama pants slung low on his hips. 

“My eyes are up here, neighbor.” Gojo grins, matching your position as he folds his arms over his chest, too. But it only emphasizes the softness of his tits, thick and spilling over his arms. You have to squeeze your eyes shut as you clench your teeth, trying to remember why you came over in the first place. 

“The music, Gojo.” You say through your teeth, finally glancing up at him when you deem your mind safe enough to look at him without ogling his chest. Gojo only smiles though, tilting his head, and you catch sight of someone walking through his apartment—naked. 

“You don’t like rock?” He asks, his voice going up an octave, feigning surprise. But you only roll your eyes at him, try to beat down the way your cheeks heat up. They must’ve just had sex, you think, him and his little houseguest, which explains why he had the music so loud, to drown out the noises. You’re not sure what you would prefer, instead. (You do know, but it embarrasses you a bit too much to admit that to yourself.)

“I don’t like loud.” You snark, turning on your heel as you face your body toward your own door, signaling the end of this conversation. You turn back to him when you realize he still watches you, trying to ignore the way his eyes jump back to your face from your turned back, the twitch resting on his thigh. Shitty alpha. 

“Keep the music down. Please.” You tack on the plea with a show of teeth, akin to a neighborly smile. If you were anything but a beta, Gojo would’ve taken it as a threat, or at least an invite to fight in bed. But he lifts his nose, scenting your small, barely there scent in the air, grins. 

“Will do, neighbor. Won’t play any music at all.” Gojo nods, chuckling under his breath, watching you the entire time as you stomp your way back to your door before slamming it shut. He forgets sometimes, that you’re a beta, that getting a certain message to you isn’t as easy as getting it to an alpha. But he knows you’ll come knocking soon enough. 

Days pass without incident, a majority of your finals going by pretty well. You just have one more left, that you study for now, before your best neighbor begins his antics again. Except, this time, he sticks true to his words, and doesn’t play any loud music. He hasn’t for the past couple of days, thankfully, which both unsettles you and helps you with your focus. 

But this sound—this does nothing for your focus, at the moment. 

It starts…subtly, quiet, barely there at first. A creaking kind of sound, a repetitive motion. Its low in the beginning, something you can ignore over the sounds of your headphones. But you share your bedroom’s wall with Gojo’s, and the sound only picks up in pace when you finally pause your music. 

Your face warms. Your hands clammy, fingers sticking to your palms as you flex them from their curled position over your laptops’ keys. 

A moan. Another incessant creak of the mattress, a bump to the wall. Another moan, this time louder. A cry of your name. A sob—all from Gojo’s lips. Is he in there with someone? Do they just…so happen to share the same name as you? Is he…is he calling for you?

You’ve never much been driven by your secondary gender, never had unbearable urges that omegas and alphas do. Never had that pull in your gut to find your mate, to bare yourself to them and consume them wholly until the days bled together and you’re sticky with each other. 

But the way Gojo cries out your name again—it does something to you. Something primal that stirs in the pit of your belly, has you shutting your laptop and hurrying for his door. You knock and knock and knock until your knuckles are damn near raw, your breathing heavy. His apartment falls silent. The air gets stiff, stale, thick with tension as you wait with bated breath for him to finally open his door. 

And when he does, you feel like you might get knocked off of your feet. He’s a pretty little thing, despite the fact that little isn’t something most would describe him as. His white hair is disheveled, pasted onto his forehead from sweat, his cerulean eyes clouded over with lust, the high points of his cheeks a ruddy red. He only sticks his head out, and you can already tell that he must be naked, couldn’t be fucked to put his clothes on, so sure of himself on the reason why you’re standing at his doorstep at the moment. 

“You’re an omega.” You state more than ask, swallowing thickly when Gojo grins haughtily at you, a vixen. He cocks his head to the side, fringe hiding his eyes as he bites at the pinkness of his bottom lip, swollen and soft looking, inviting. 

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure it out.” He winks at you, the upper half of his body exposed, barely, his nipples puffy and round, perky from what you assume the plentiful amount of attention he gave them. You swallow thickly at the sight, feeling more animal than human right now, wishing you could smell the intensity of his scent that he’s for sure pouring out into the hall at the moment. But you stand straighter anyway, reminding yourself of whose name he was calling out, without you even having to touch him. 

“You make all this noise because you want my attention?” You tilt your chin to him, hand cocked on your hip as you bite the bullet. “Well, now you’ve got it.” 

Gojo only smiles at you, before he yanks you inside of his place. You fall against him, head craning back as he takes your mouth in a flurry of biting kisses. He is naked—but he doesn’t let you admire him much, too busy trying to take and take from you, like the greedy little thing that he is. 

He cups your face between his hot palms, his tongue ravishing the roof of your mouth, your teeth, the softness of the insides of your cheeks. You can only hold his thin waist, let him walk you backwards into his room, where even his strong scent is enough to make a beta like you lightheaded. 

His nest takes up the majority of his room, and you spot a few items of clothing that don’t belong to him, like the pair of socks that went missing last month. You can only shake your head, holding his shoulders as he ducks down to attack your throat and neck, his tiny fangs scraping at your pulse point. 

“You’re in heat,” you point out, letting him push you into the center of his nest, as he stands before you. He’s even more gorgeous than you could’ve imagined. He stands there, porcelain skin beading with sweat, his chest thick and spilling over, his nipples dusky and standing at attention, his stomach and pubes drenched in slick and cum. His cock is bigger than the usual omega’s, but the sight makes your mouth water anyway, especially as you catch sight of the slick trailing from his hole to messy his inner thighs. 

“I am,” Gojo says breathlessly with a grin, dropping to his knees in front of you. He throws your legs over his shoulder, shoves his face between your legs to sniff at your wetness. Its nothing compared to his own, but the scent of it makes his eyes roll into the back of his head anyway. He shreds your bottoms away with small, yet sharp claws, tears away the thread until you’re bared to him, exposed. 

But before he can taste you, you place your foot on his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. Gojo pouts at you in confusion, eyebrows drawn up in question as you shake your head at him. 

“Why are you suffering alone then, omega?” You ask him, tilting your chin up in question. You don’t usually track his heat cycles, but you can typically tell when they’re happening. He loads up on groceries the week before, that same naked alpha with the black hair you’ve seen quite a few times comes in one day, and doesn’t leave out for days. Sometimes you can hear the knocking of the bed frame, sometimes you can taste his scent in the air. But he’s never gone through a heat alone, at least, not since you moved in. 

“Didn’t want anybody else.” Gojo confesses, turning his head to kiss the skin on your calf, your ankle. He bites lightly in warning, a glint in his eyes as he glares up at you, the humanity in him waning with every second he’s denied the taste and feel of you. “I wanted you, my little beta.” 

He tacks on the nickname to tease, pairs it with a rough bite to your skin, breaks the flesh there. You hiss, leaning forward until you can grip his locks between your fingers, angling his head up until he can look at you, a drunk kind of haze glazing over his eyes as you skim your lips against his own. You can taste the iron of your blood there, and the scent of his slick that consumes the room. 

“Alright, let me make you feel good, then.” You whisper, baring your teeth to him, smiling when he bares his back, the squelch of his hole loud when he clenches around nothing. You pat his cheek patronizingly with your free hand, pushing him back until you settle on his hips. 

“Help my princess through his miserable little heat.” You tease, expecting Gojo to roll his eyes or tell you to knock it off. But he groans instead, eyes rolling back into his head, as his cock twitches underneath the swell of your ass. You gasp softly, before your shocked look melts into one of pleasure, evil, as Gojo can only lift and drop his shoulder with practiced ease. 

“What can I say, I like to be taken care of.” He mumbles, tries to look so confident in himself, but you can see the flush on his neck thats not from his heat. You lean forward, grabbing him by the cheeks as you take his mouth once more, biting at the plushness of his lips as he rocks his hips against you. 

“Give me your biggest toy,” you whisper against his lips, smiling deviously when a full body shudder passes through him. Gojo doesn’t even have to reach far, the toy at the ready in his bedside drawer. Its pink in color, soft and light, despite the heaviness of it that weighs it down in your palms. The base flares out to a thick knot, veins running up the shaft that has to be at least nine inches. What a fucking size queen, you think. 

“The strap on harness is right there,” Gojo points out to you, but you have other plans. Without a word, you arrange yourself until you sit on his stomach, facing his legs this time. Gojo immediately grabs the globes of your ass, thumbing at your cheeks until he can see your own hole, pressing his thumb against it. You moan, rocking back slightly, but this isn’t about you right now. 

“Nah, I wanna fuck you just like this,” you murmur, spitting on the tip of the dildo until it rolls down the shaft. With one hand, you hold it up, guiding Gojo’s legs up with the other until his feet are planted on the bed. You swipe a hand through his soft, milky thighs, earning a loud hiccup from the featherlight touch. You gather his own slick and coat the dildo with it, lathering the thick cock with his essence, unable to help cleaning your hand with your tongue. His scent is like honey, sweet and thick, makes your head feel light and fuzzy, like you’re drunk on the taste of him. 

“Put it in, already.” Gojo demands, his voice soft, but the command is underlying in his tone. You part his cheeks with your free hand, fingers getting slick and messy. You slap his hole lightly with the tips of your fingers, his pretty red cock twitching at the feeling of it. Gojo jerks underneath you and groans, the grip on your ass tightening as he throws his head back. 

“Talk to that alpha like that, not me.” You snap at him, but it holds little malice. You can damn near hear Gojo’s pout from behind you, and its confirmed when you spare him a glance over your shoulder. His bottom lip pokes out, his cheeks flushed, his tits perky as his nipples stiffen. 

“Please, I’m just a poor omega in heat.” He bemoans, and you can see the trickery and manipulation just oozing from his eyes. You narrow your gaze at him, settling on his stomach once more as you face his hole, his twitching cock. You compare sizes of it with the dildo, find that there isn’t too big of a difference between the two. 

“With a cock this big?” You hum, slapping the underside of his cock softly with your palm, watching his whole lower body contract and twitch as he groans under his breath. Its a mixture of his pleasure, as a strangled laugh churns up from his chest, his eyes squeezed shut when you slap the underside of his tip again. 

“Can’t deny my luckiness.” Gojo strains, sharp nails tearing at the flesh of your ass as he shifts, impatient. He’s an unusual omega—usually, by now, they’re too mindless to be this snarky while in heat, too busy baring their hole, too busy waiting for someone to fuck it to give them much lip. Gojo must be an anomaly, but you think—you know—you’ll have fun with him, anyway. 

“Well if you’re so lucky, how about you cum without me touching it, then?” You inquire, squeezing the base of his cock at the same moment you press the fat dildo to his soft hole. He jerks underneath you, a strangled laugh echoing from his chest as he opens up to the girth of the dildo, his cock reddening under your grip. 

“As long as you’re touching me, beta.” He chokes on his words, when you inch the fake cock inside of him, bit by bit. He takes it all though, his hole open and inviting, as greedy as its owner, swallowing up the thickness until the knot flares at the base. You can see the bulge of the cock in the lower part of his stomach, watch the way it pushes at the thinness of his skin beneath his bellybutton, his pretty cock jerking the whole time. 

It twitches when you rock your hips against his abs, gaining your own relief as you listen to his greedy hole squelch around the dildo. He takes it so easily, a sigh escaping from his finally quiet mouth, satisfied at being filled, at last. You twist your wrist, watching the way his hole swallows up the fat cock, how his inner thighs tremble with your slow, agonizing pace. 

“You like it when I open you up like this?” You whisper, turning to look at him over your shoulder, a vixen like grin on your lips as Gojo’s eyes flutter open at your question. He looks so pretty like this; cheeks flushed, his fringe pasted to his forehead, his neck red, his gaze focused solely on you. 

“When I play with your pussy?” You whisper, watching the way his eyes roll into his head. His hips jerk roughly, cock dribbling precum on his belly, so close to your thighs. But you refuse to touch it, instead dipping your fingers in the mess he makes on himself, combined with his earlier releases. You catch sight of the dildo plastered to the wall that he must’ve been using earlier, and smile, big. 

“Oh, you’re sick,” Gojo sighs, grinning so wide you think his cheeks might crack from the tautness. But he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t correct you, just holds your hips in a tight grip as he starts to grind down on the cock inside of him. You can tell he’s getting close, watch that glassiness pass over his eyes as his eyebrows tilt up in pleasure, biting his lip between his sharp teeth. 

“But you love it, don’t you, princess?” You tease him, biting the nickname through your teeth as you watch his eyes roll into his head. You start fucking the dildo inside of him quicker, listen to the sounds his greedy hole makes all the while, how it sucks in the fat cock greedily. 

“Tell me.” You whisper, tracing a lone fingernail up the underside of his pretty little cock, watching his eyes glaze over with tears as he smiles, wet and shaky. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I fucking love it.” Gojo says without missing a beat, lifting his legs up higher in the air, feet floating from the mattress, as he gives you more access to fuck his hole the way he wants you to, needs you to. You hold onto the back of his thigh for better access, rolling your hips along his stomach all the while, your pleasure on the back burner. You have to watch him cum, see the pretty look that passes over his face, watch the breath leave him as he cums all over himself. 

“Say it.” You goad him, inching your way down until his tip nuzzles against your clit, barely there, barely kissing tips. His hole spasms around the dildo at the contact, as you watch the bulge sit in his lower belly, grinding the knot right at the entrance, until he’s sure he might pop. 

“I love it when you play with my pussy.” Gojo finally says, his voice breathy, light, a keen in his throat as his knee jerks when you force the knot past the soft rim of his hole. It pops in without much resistance, and he sobs out a mixture of your name and a laugh, tears brimming his eyes as his head falls back onto the bed. You watch over your shoulder, as his mouth drapes open, plucking his nipple once just to watch him fall over the edge of his climax. 

And he plummets; his entire body spasms as he cums against your clit, thick ropes spilling from the flushed head, his hole gushing around the fat knot, dribbling onto the nest beneath you two. He makes a complete mess, and he’s a loud little thing, too. Cries his pleasure out, digging his nails into the flesh of your ass, moaning your name as he ruts his hips up, searching for an even bigger knot, the slut, searching for something to bury his too big omega cock into. 

When he catches his breath, do you finally pause. But not for long, as you throw him a look over your shoulder, devilish and evil. He has the nerve to look scared. 

“Again.” You whisper, and he couldn’t say that he blamed you much, when you make him cum again and again until he runs dry. And even after that, do you milk him until his hole is soft and gaping, pliant to your touches, his nipples reddened and sore and stiff, his cock soft but spurting out useless little ropes of cum, anyway. 

He wanted your attention so badly for so long and now, he’s most certainly got it. 

thank you all so much for reading! likes/comments/reblogs are so appreciated!

[crybaby-bkg]

𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖊

Final day of gojober! Warnings: serial killer gojo, graphic descriptions of him killing people but he never harms you, chasing, lots of fear + crying, stalking, non-penetrative sex, just the tip, nipple play, and extremely dubious consent. please let me know if I missed anything!! Word count: 6.2k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on Ao3 Masterlist can be found here

People have been going missing on your campus recently. You can’t really pinpoint when it all started, or who it originally started with. You remember a few people leaving the campus suddenly, claims that they can’t afford school or that this university just isn’t the right fit for them. Others vanishing after a night of partying without a trace. Some getting train tickets and fleeing, despite the fact that no one actually saw them leave. 

It’s not until someone is found dead in the back corner of the school’s library that there is suddenly a lot of attention on those missing people. Questions begin flying about whether or not they’re really missing, when the last time anyone had heard from them, where they were seen last. It’s unsettling, for the most part. Especially when you were just in that same corner of the library that night, hours before that guy was found, dead, blood pooling out from an open wound in his throat, and a multitude of other stab wounds found on his body. 

Gojo’s not really one to be spooked, though, honestly. Never been much interested in crime podcasts or those documentaries about unsolved cases. He prefers the movies; the slasher shit so bad that it makes him cackle when the actress dramatically screams and falls into dewy grass. 

It especially doesn’t spook him, because he knows what happened to all of those missing people. Well, not all of them. Some of them really did leave on their recognizance, while others are rotting away under a couple feet of grass, or burnt to a crisp, or are sinking somewhere deep in the ocean. It wasn’t really his choice though; they all deserved it for some reason or another. There’s the occasional victim in there, one who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone who got caught up in his snowballing shit-storm that he just had to take out in order to cover his own ass. 

His dad tells him that he shouldn’t get his hands dirty. What’s the point of having all of this disposable income and all these people on their roster if someone of the Gojo clan gets their hands dirty?

But Satoru has always liked the thrill of it all. The chase. The excitement. The way his cock swells against his leg at the utter fear that runs bone deep when he hovers over them with a gun or a knife or a rock, and a few times, even his own bare hands. 

It excites him. Creates a sort of thrill that has made him get sloppy over the past couple of weeks. He’s been distracted in his final semester; the edge of graduation on the horizon, the finality of classes, the transition into the working world, you. 

It’s always somebody, isn’t it? Somebody to catch the eye of the worse person the world has ever known? But you were more than just somebody to him. You were everything; the light in your eyes, the kindness of your smile. Your hands gentle when they graze his own when he purposefully knocked his own pencil to the floor. Your attention fleeting, always fleeting, but he felt warmed, physically, every time you turned your gaze to him, even if its for the slightest moment. 

You were the epitome of a certain flavor of innocence, that he didn’t even want to corrupt, but simply wanted to hold within him. Wanted to graze the very essence of you, see if a tiny piece of you, of your soul, could bleed out to him, taint him any less, wash away just a bit of the blood that has stained the innermost pieces of what has become of him. 

And of course, you were his latest obsession, latest little trophy prize for getting rid of the scum and filth that trampled along the campus. 

The guy in the library? He had been stalking you, who, funnily enough, hadn’t even realized that he was being stalked by Gojo. The irony, right?

It had been going on for weeks now, and pretty little empty headed you, hadn’t the slightest clue. Didn’t realize that the creep followed you to your apartment almost every night, that he memorized your class schedule, followed you to the cafe you liked to frequent, to the library, to your friends houses, everywhere. The guy was a fucking pervert, and Gojo was scared that he would start to escalate soon. 

So, when he followed the guy to a hardware store, watched him checkout rope and a shovel and duct tape and bleach, Gojo knew he had to do something to protect you. And he did! Thank the stars and the moon above for him, right? For his quick thinking, when the fucking freak show stood watching you from around the corner, his breathing heavy, a backpack slung over his shoulder with his earlier purchases, his eyes dead set on you. 

Thank the stars and the moon and the sun for Gojo, for dragging him back into the darkness of the empty, late night library when you made a move to leave. For watching the life bleed from the creep’s eyes once he realized he was caught; for watching the life bleed from his eyes once his neck hung open, gore painting the gray floors. 

He did all of that for you. Saved your life time and time again from creeps and pervs and adult fucking bullies and shitty professors and yet—

And yet, you hadn’t noticed him. Much less given him a thank you, or an acknowledgement of his efforts in keeping you safe from harm. It’s the least you could do; after all, he had to throw away his favorite sweater when the creep bled out all over it. 

So, Gojo tries to get your attention in the subtlest ways that he can, which isn’t too subtle for other people’s standards, but its quiet for him. Sitting next to you in classes, sharing notes, following you to your favorite cafes, lingering around your dorm building, getting rid of the guys that break your heart. 

His love has never been much quiet, truthfully. He doesn’t think that that’s much of a problem, until you look at him like he’s some psychopath. Like he could ever harm you. And he couldn’t—but, shit, if the thought didn’t cross his mind when you started running from him. 

Initially, he didn’t pull out the knife. He always keep it on him, but he didn’t want to scare you. Its winter break, and your campus is pretty small, so just about everyone has gone home for the next two weeks. But you hadn’t; you stayed cooped up in your dorm room, blasting music for only your ears, ordering food deliveries for just about every meal. You thought you were alone on campus, save for a few lingering janitors. He wasn’t supposed to be there. 

But there he stands—the guy that can’t really seem to leave you alone. He’s handsome, Gojo, you’re pretty sure his name is. And while he has always been kind, something about him unsettles you. Something deep inside of your gut tells you that there is something wrong with this guy, that if you value your life, you should stay away. And you tried to, at first. Politely declining his invitations for coffee and study sessions, until you realized that he was always there, right in the corner of your eye. 

You’re not sure how you hadn’t noticed him at first. He stands so tall and so bright, that he rivals the brightness of the sun itself. But he’s good at going unnoticed. You think he wanted you to notice him, for him to have your attention. 

“Just one chance,” he asks of you, looming over you in the empty courtyard of your campus. No one is around; its the weekend, the janitors are gone, its late, and you haven’t seen a single soul since the early morning. Your stomach feels queasy. Your hands shake at the way he looks at you; devoid of any and all emotion except for one. Is it hunger? Is it love? Obsession? Is it consumption of something, of someone, that always got away? 

Your instincts tell you to run, and you do. Your breaths are heavy, your feet slapping the concrete as you work your muscles to carry you further and further away from the man. He’s tall enough that he could easily catch up with you if he so pleased, but you chance a look over your shoulder, and he only stands there. Rigid, tall, lanky. His eyes are wide, seemingly unseeing, focused on the way you sprint away from him, as if he were a threat. 

You will your feet to carry you as far as they can, as fast as they can, daring one more look over your shoulder, to see if he has given chase. He still stands there, but you catch the gleaming light of the knife hanging loosely in his grip. You scramble away from him, tripping over your own feet but don’t dare fall, your chest suddenly becoming too tight. 

“Help!” You screech as loudly as you can, but you know its all in vain. There isn’t a single soul around, the campus isolated in the open lands of trees and grass and empty buildings. “Someone help me!” 

There’s been an uptick in murders in the area, and you’re sure now who it must be, the culprit. Because Gojo only laughs at your screams for help, the sound haunting, echoing in the quietness of the campus. He cackles, and you can imagine him doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughs and laughs at your panicked screams and cries. He’s a monster, you think, and he’s had his sights set on you for gods know how long. 

“Ahh, help me!” Gojo mocks you, suddenly moving from his rooted spot in the courtyard. You can see your building just a few hundred feet ahead of you. There aren’t any locks on the dorms door, meaning you have to make it to the fourth floor before you can get somewhere secure and call for help. You can hear him laugh again behind you, his steps even and calculated, and you throw another glance over your shoulder as you watch him walk toward you, as if taking a casual stroll in the evening with a knife in his hand. 

“How pathetic!” He calls to you, grinning, jumping in your direction at you when you look at him again over your shoulder. He chuckles when you stumble again, trying to heave yourself even faster to the doors of your building. It’s only a few feet away from you now, you just have to push yourself, keep your feet from crossing over the other in your haste. 

“To run away from the man who has been protecting you and saving you for months now.” His cheerful tone edges on anger now, the words hissed through clenched, pearly white teeth. The laugh in his voice is gone, a seething kind of rage that shakes you to your very core. You think your heart may burst at the way your feet slap against the pavement, fear it strains and pushes too hard against the confines of your ribs. You think you hear one crack as you struggle for breath, a cry escaping you as you finally reach the wide set door. 

You burst through the doors in a hurry, a panicky breath spilling from your lips as you rush to the elevator on the other side of the open space. Protecting you? Saving you? Gojo’s words register within you a beat late, as you skid to a stop in front of the elevators, hurriedly pressing the button to go up. You don’t see him, but you know he’s there, know he’s creeping outside the doors, waiting to make his grand entrance, ready to spill your guts all over the pristine marbled floors of your dorm. 

“That creep in the library?” Gojo’s voice suddenly rings across the silent space, save for your labored breath. You choke on a scream as you watch him enter, his steps slow, deliberate. He’s not chasing you, but he’s there, following, confident in his ability to catch up no matter how long it takes. The elevator doors open, and he doesn’t rush you, despite the way you’re falling inside the closed space. 

“You’re welcome.” He says evenly, his mouth set in a thin line as he slows in his tracks. You can’t breathe. You think your lungs may give out at any second. You watch his careful steps across the open space, how unhurried he seems. He turns, body facing the right side of the building, his eyes still set on you as you press the door close button again and again until your nail breaks from the intensity of it. The pain is dull, quiet, in the thunderous beat of your heart. It grows fat with all the blood pumping to it, your lungs weary with all the air you cannot push inside of them. 

Gojo doesn’t come to the elevator. He heads straight for the stairs, confident that he’ll meet you halfway. You cry out in panic, willing the elevator to go up faster, faster, as the doors finally shut. You only get a glimpse of his too wide smile the moment he turns over his shoulder to look at you, holding the stairway doors open the moment the elevators’ close. Its a race, a promise, and you’re not entirely sure that time is on your side. 

You left your phone on your bed, but as long as you make it up before him, you can barricade your door and call the cops. It’ll probably take them a while to get to your location, with how inconveniently placed the school is, but you have a few things in your room that you can use as a weapon. 

Floor two. The red lights seems to mock you, glares pathetically at your labored breathing, your eyes filled with panicked tears. You grab hold of your chest, a shaky sob exiting you without warning as you try to bite back the cry that wracks your entire frame. 

Floor three. One more floor to go, and he might already be meeting you there. Might pry open the elevator doors with his bare hands, might gut you like you’re helpless prey in the elevator, spray your blood across the metallic shine until your reflection blurs with red. 

Floor four. The elevator doors open. The floor is quiet, still, so silent that you have to hold in your erratic breathing to hear anything. You don’t hear his footsteps pounding on the stairs. No labored breathing, no haunting chuckles, no knife scraping along the paint of the walls. Its utterly silent. With the quietest breath you can manage, you peek your head out of the doors, afraid that he’ll be just around the corner, knife at the ready. 

But the floor is empty. Your door is the last one on the right, closest to the stairway. If you bolt, maybe you can make it without him finding you. With a heavy sigh and a prayer to whoever listens, do you bolt down the hallway. Your eyes prick with tears, and your chest fills up so heavily, its a surprise that it doesn’t weigh you down to the floor. But you push and you push, eyes focused solely on your safe haven, the promise that you’ll finally find refuge from the maniac hunting you down. 

You make it to your room without pause, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you as you squeeze your eyes shut in relief. You slide against the length of the door until your butt meets the carpeted floor, your face resting in your hands as you suck in a shaky breath. Your momentary peace is interrupted by a familiar voice across the room. 

“There are a lotta creeps out there, you know?” Gojo says casually, resting on your bed as if he had been there time and time again. You let out an ear piercing screech, scrambling to stand, to unlock the door, to leave, to save your life—but he snatches you back before you can with a hand wrapped around your throat. The other presses the cool metal of his knife to the skin of your throat, and you let out a gut wrenching sob at the feel of it. Gojo frowns at you, his body hard and hot behind you, against the length of you. He nuzzles his cheek against your own, cooing at you as your chest squeezes tightly. 

“Hey, calm down, would you? I’d never hurt you.” He promises, and he sounds so sure of himself that you’re almost convinced. You fist your hands, beating against him as much as you can in your captive position, but Gojo only holds you tighter to him, wrapping his arm around both of yours until you’re restricted. 

“You have a knife.” You spit to him between gritted teeth, tears streaking your cheeks, muddying your neck and collar. But Gojo only shushes you, walks you backwards gently until his knees meet the sides of your bed. From there, he flips your positions, pushing you on the bed, hovering over you until he sits on your pelvis, knife pressed against your throat once more. You catch sight of your phone just a few inches away from you, and you sob at the image of it broken to pieces. 

You’re not getting out of here alive. 

“Yeah, because you don’t trust me yet.” Gojo pouts petulantly as he hovers over you, guiding your chin up with the blunt side of the knife, getting a good look at you. You’re sure you look a mess right now; face splotchy, eyes red, nose running, your lips puffy from your crying. But he looks at you with so much admiration in his eyes that it blinds you, strokes a finger down the roundness of your cheek until your tear collects on his finger. He licks it off, softly, akin to some harmless cat you’ve domesticated. 

“Why should I trust you? You’re a murderer.” You spit the word out with so much disdain that Gojo reels back, ever so slightly. He looks pained by your words, by the hate running so rampant in your eyes right now. You just don’t understand, you’re confused, he’s sure of it. 

“Yeah, with good cause.” He nods to you, pulling the knife from your skin, but he doesn’t toss it. Holds it beside him, as he sits back on his knees, still on top of you. You push up on your elbows, reeling back when he inches his face closer to your own, kisses gently at your tears. If he wasn’t fucking psychotic, you’re sure you would’ve seen the gesture as sweet, if not a little strange. 

He’s handsome, you’ve always noticed. But there was always something underlying inside of him that put you off. The glint in his eyes as he devours you with just a hooded look tells you all that you need to know. 

“Good to who?” You question when you realize you’ve been staring at him far too long. But Gojo only smiles, tucking the knife away in the back of his pants as he brushes his nose against the curve of your jaw, your chin. 

“Good to you. For you.” He purrs, voice dipping, makes you shudder all over. You try not to get distracted by the way he touches you, hands gentle and soft as if they hadn’t wielded a knife just moments earlier. He goads you down to lay on the bed, slowly, so slowly, his hands cradling the back of your head with a gentleness of a lover. He presses slow, sweet, sensuous kisses along the curve of your face, your ear, down the sides of your throat, where your pulse hammers against the confines of your skin. 

His words hit you from earlier, ever so slowly, as you blink at the dimmed lights of your room. Moonlight bleeds through your open window, highlights the whiteness of his hair, halo’s the cerulean of his eyes, lidded, full of devotion. 

“You said something about a creep in the library earlier.” You whisper, voice dipping as you blink up at him. You hadn’t known much about the guy when you saw the news about his death. Just knew that you had rejected him months ago, and how the quiet guy never really let everything go. You’d see him a few times off campus, thinking nothing of it. 

“He was planning on doing awful, vile things to you, baby.” Gojo says softly against the expanse of your throat, undoing you, thread by thread as you lay there, stiff. Your mind reels, remembering the details of how the guy was found with rope and duck tape in his bag, how he was stabbed so brutally, that the library had to be shut off from students from the amount of blood that had seeped and spread into the floors. You remembered how he’d look at you with such disdain months after your rejection, how you never truly felt alone. 

You come to the realization quietly, your words barely audible as Gojo slithers his hands up your shirt. Your skin is numb, his hands are warm, but they do nothing to quell the sinking feeling in your gut. 

“He was going to kill me.” You whisper, eyes pricking with tears again as you feel your whole body getting stiffen up, a sense of dread settling into the pit of your belly. Gojo has slithered down the length of your body, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach. 

“He was.” He says, voice sure, soft as silk, soft as the tongue that laps at your bellybutton. You want to push him away. Your brain tells you to push him away, but your body freezes all over. Its too much information going on, being thrown at you, and you feel like you may be drowning without much water. 

“And you saved me.” You state more than ask, your voice a breathless whisper as Gojo inches your shirt up and up until it rests on your collarbone. Your bra is exposed to his eyes and you know you should fight him off, but your arms feel like lead at your sides. He kisses the roundness of your breast, the left one, and then the right, then the middle. 

“I did.” He nods once, his breath skimming against your skin as he wraps his lips around the fat of your chest. He sucks until it bruises, until you whine, until you find the strength in yourself to lift your arms and press them on his shoulders. It doesn’t do much to push him away, but he pulls back ever so slightly, his eyes shining in the moonlit room. His pupils are blown out, barely any blue to be seen, and you’re not sure if it terrifies you more, to not be swallowed by the ocean of his irises. 

You blink at him once, twice, feeling yourself begin to float out of your own body. You don’t pay much attention to when he slides from sitting on top of you, to resting between your thighs, your legs thrown over his narrow hips, his pelvis pressed against the thin cotton pants your wear. You can feel his excitement. It doesn’t disgust you as much as you thought it would, but you’re not entirely in your own skin right now. 

“I don’t—I don’t know what to say.” You stammer, eyes welling with tears as the moment dawns on you fully. Gojo only purrs, dipping down to lick at the swell of your puffy bottom lip as you suck in a shaky, ragged breath. 

“A thank you, would be nice, my love.” Gojo sighs softly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him until his body melds into your own. His skin is hot. His teeth are sharp against your throat as he grinds his swelling cock against your ass. It brings you back into the moment, and you gasp sharply, nails biting into his shoulders through the thinness of his plain white shirt. 

He only nuzzles his mouth against your pulse point, licking at it when it thumps erratically against the thin skin. You fear if he bites hard enough, he may pull the flesh from your muscle, may devour you whole with the admiration and hunger that vibrates from his very being. 

“‘My love?’” You repeat, disgust lining your tone. It dies down when Gojo nips at your throat a little too harshly. “You don’t even know me. I don’t know you.” You try to reason, try to push back against the overwhelming nature of this very man, but he only pushes harder against you. Pushes and pushes until you’re trapped under him, until his cock is pressed flush against your cunt, until the heavy weight of it makes you whimper low in your throat. You’re not sure if its from fear or pleasure, but Gojo grins anyway. 

“Oh, I know you more than you know yourself.” He says it so assuredly, that you waver for just a second, question how long he’s been following you, just how much he knows about every single aspect of you. “Just let me take my thanks from you. Its the least you can do, now that you owe me.”

He finishes his words off with another slow grind against you, and you bite the inside of your cheeks harshly when you feel the arousal starting to spill from your hole. You clench your eyes in shame, in embarrassment, that just moments before, you were scared out of your mind, and now you lay here, hole leaking, your nipples perking up against the slide of his chest against yours. 

“Owe you?” You hiss, eyes clenching shut when he eases the cup of your bra down, and you don’t fight it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should be thanking him, lest you’d be buried somewhere in a ditch because some crazy man couldn’t handle your rejection. Maybe you should let him take his fill of you, just for the night. 

“For saving your life.” Gojo hums, licking around your areola like a dog lapping at water. His mouth salivates at the salty taste of your sweat staining your skin, pursing his lips to let his drool dribble onto the perkiness of your nipple. You gasp as the warmth of it slides off, pools to the middle of your chest. He moves to the other one, does the same, before he slides his mouth to where the saliva gathers, trailing it down the expanse of your belly. 

He grins when you shiver. 

“I don’t—I’m not—” you shake your head, tucking your lip between your teeth when he grazes his own sharp ones around your sensitive nipples. Gojo shushes you when you continue to stutter over your words, leaning forward until his mouth hovers over your own, his lips wet with saliva, hearts in his blown out eyes. 

“I won’t go all the way, yeah?” He murmurs, nodding his head, waiting for you to follow. He doesn’t speak again until you do, reluctant. “Just play with your pussy for a while, a test run. I want our first time to be special, anyway.” 

His words barely register before he’s pulling away, ever so slightly, to tug down the thinness of your pants. You try to fight back, but its all for naught, when he slides the knife from the back of his pants. He doesn’t even look at you, despite the way your entire body locks up in fear. Only keeps his head down, humming and mumbling to himself, as he slices, ever so gently, down the front of your pants. They flay open, useless as the fight you try to put up. 

He hesitates for only a second, glancing up at you from under his fringe, his smile as wide as it was outside when he chased you. It makes your heart plummet to your chest, a primal sort of fear inching up as you freeze all over. Gojo unceremoniously cuts away your cotton panties, one of your favorite pair. You don’t say anything to him. 

“Gosh,” he mumbles with a smile, tossing the knife to the floor as he spreads your legs wider around his hips. “She’s even prettier up close.” 

You’re not sure what he means by that, when he’s ever seen in between your legs to know what it looks like up close, but the thought makes you heat up anyway. Your face warms, and your throat closes up, fear and shame coursing through you, as you let him drink his fill of eyeing the way your folds glisten. Your puffy lips swollen, and your clit throbbing with every grind of his cock against you, your hole calling for something to fill it. 

Your eyes water as you throw a hand over your face, embarrassed that your body accepts him so easily. But Gojo coos at you, softly, gently like a lover, pulls your hand from your face, greeting you with a worried expression on his own. His mouth pulls down, his bottom lip still wet from spit, cradling your head within his arms as he looks into your eyes so deeply, that butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“Don’t hide from me, okay?” He says quietly, pressing his lips to your own, soft, soft, careful. You hesitantly kiss him back, nodding once, tasting the sweetness of candies he always ate on his tongue. Gojo pulls back, pecking you once more, before he pulls away ever so slightly. You watch him undo his belt with shaking hands, his grin almost maniacal once more at the prospect of what’s to come. 

You can only watch him, wonder what he plans on doing with you if not to go all the way. You eye him in anticipation, legs fallen open as he tugs his pants down, forgoing underwear completely. His cock falls out of its confines, thick and heavy, pale with a blushing red tip, drooling and angry. It bobs at the bite of the cold air of the room, his balls twitching when you let out a tiny gasp at the size of it. 

You feel panic begin to flutter inside of you when he positions himself between your legs once more, angling his cock down until it hovers over your cunt. You gasp, clawing to sit up and scoot yourself back, but Gojo holds you firmly by the hips. 

“I thought you weren’t putting it in,” you stammer, eyes growing wide at the sight of the blushing tip, thick and mushroomed, so close to your hole. You’re not prepared enough to take him without any kind of foreplay, but Gojo only smiles at you. Leans forward to peck at your nose sweetly, as he pushes you back down softly. You go reluctantly, eyes wide and terrified, as he stares down at you with nothing but love bleeding from his eyes. 

“I’m not,” he reassures you, but you clench your eyes shut anyway when his cockhead brushes against your cunt. Except, he doesn’t press it in. Just slides the length of his cock up and down the smoothness of your cunt, his tip kissing your clit with every brush. You settle minutely, breathing out a deep sigh as you rest your head back on the bed beneath you. 

“That’s it, baby.” Gojo moans, watching the tension expel from your body little by little. He grins, bright and wide, almost unhinged with the way his smile lines pull taut. He guides your legs until they rest on his shoulders, giving him a tighter squeeze, as he fits his cock between the puffy folds of your cunt. 

“Getting my hands dirty was all worth it, just to feel you.” Gojo mutters softly, leaning forward until his mouth meets your breasts again. He tugs at your nipple with sharp teeth until you cry out, hands digging into the fluffiness of his hair. He soothes over the sting with a lap of his tongue, sucking the bud of it into his mouth to feel your hole clench around nothing, drool against his shaft. He groans, fucking his hips a little faster, trying to keep a steady pace, trying to make this moment last forever. But he’s waited so long to feel you, he’s not sure he can take another second. 

“Seeing you like this, spread out for me,” he mutters, burying his face in your chest as he holds your thighs tight against him, sandwiching his body until he’s sure his head will pop. From the pressure or from the euphoria, he doesn’t care which, as long as the last thing he sees, smells, feels, is you. 

“Makes me so hard, baby,” Gojo groans, kissing and licking his way up your chest until he meets your lips. They’re wide open, a breathless sound escaping you as he fucks you higher and higher up the bed without ever slipping himself inside of you. You tear at his neck and arms, his skin red and raw from your jagged nails, but he doesn’t seem to care. Just holds your pussy lips around his cock between his thumb and forefinger, pinching, until the lewd sight makes his eyes roll back, the wetness of you, the thickness of his cock rubbing so addictively against your swollen clit. 

“You feel that? How bad I wanna put it inside you?” Gojo asks breathless, pressing his cock to your hole, which opens up, flutters, just for him, only for him. He throws his head back at the feeling, at what he promised you, but your pussy calls to him like a siren, its song of your wetness kissing against his tip something he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to ignore. 

“Just the tip.” You whisper. It shocks him, stuns him into silence for just a moment. Your voice is so tiny, so small, he’s not sure if he imagined you actually saying it or not. But the glossiness of your eyes, the way your mouth forms and repeats and repeats the plea again and again—he’s sure he hadn’t imagined a single thing. 

“Just the tip.” He promises you, diving down to take your mouth in his, his tongue pressing against your own. You welcome the kiss, your body loose and languid on the bed beneath him, your hole opening and inviting just for him. His pubes are slicked from rubbing against your cunt, but the wetness of your hole and the leakiness from his tip create a kind of kissing noise that he thinks may actually make his brain bleed from his ears. 

Its addictive. Its hell. Its paradise—when he slides the fat head of his cock inside your tight hole. You cry out, throwing your head back at the stretch. Gojo doesn’t move, keeps his promise of just the tip, of making your first time special. He doesn’t move, despite the way your cunt clamps down on him, and your hips rock to feel him deeper, deeper, inside of you. 

He rolls your clit between his thumb and forefinger, determined to make you cum before he does. He can feel himself ready to be thrown over the edge at the sight of you, the feel of you. Spread out in front of him, tits pretty and wet and bitten, pushed to the heavens as your back arches. Your mouth swollen from his kisses, whispering for him to just move, to give you the whole thing. Your cunt pretty and greedy and soft around him. 

He thinks he may be going crazy. 

He pinches your nipple with one hand, rolling it between thick fingers, as he uses the other to rub at your clit until you’re writhing beneath him. Your eyes clamp shut and you squirm, chest arching into his touch as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. 

“Gonna cum,” you hiccup, hands clawing at his wrists, the way he pinches your nipple so tight between bruising fingers. Gojo only smiles at you, his eyes too wide, his grin too big. You see the love shine there, as bright as the moon behind his head. Its always been love, and its evident in the way he swipes at your clit until your entire body shakes all over. 

“I love you.” He confesses, sure and quiet as you cum around his tip, his eyes clenched shut as the feeling of your spasming sends him over his own edge. He doesn’t pull out, and you gasp as he fills you up, rope after rope of his hot seed spurting inside of you for what feels like forever. His entire body goes stiff, his teeth grit as he holds himself still to keep from fucking his entire length inside of you. 

When he finishes, the room falls silent, save for your labored breathing. He looks down his nose at you, and you see the killer that he’s always been. But you also see the love, the admiration, the willingness, the devotion. You think, for just a second, that it outweighs the murder. 

thank you so much for reading! likes/comments/reblogs are so greatly appreciated 🖤

[crybaby-bkg]

𝖉𝖎𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖞

Day three of gojober Warnings: religious reader, higher power referred to as They and the Divine, manipulation, extremely dubious consent, vaginal fingering, missionary position, virgin reader, pierced cock. I think that's it but please let me know if I missed anything!! Word count: 4.5k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI Also available on Ao3 Masterlist can be found here

You were always a devout follower in your church. Always a good person, always followed the rules the head of your people told you to follow, always prayed and recited scriptures in your mirror when no one was home. It wasn’t for show; you were as devout as they came. So why does your faith waver in the face of one glorious being that stands in front of you? 

It was…both ethereal and terrifying, to say the least, the angel standing in front of you. Your room wasn’t too big, quiet and small and quaint, humble, lowly for a mere servant like you. It took up all of the space, seemed to suck up all of the air from the room, as if Its very presence was so otherworldly that the particles in the air itself seemed to freeze, turn solid, splatter onto your sheets in front of you. 

You could only swallow thickly as you stared up at It, the glow emitting from It’s body close to blinding you. But you did not shield your eyes, even though the brightness began to sting your waterline with tears. You sit there in astonishment for what feels like hours, your mouth agape, your chest heavy, before you find it in you to bow your head, shaking hands clasped in front of you. 

And despite the tall figure and the white light emanating from Its six wings; despite the two eyes in their normal place and four more scattered across It’s face; despite its thin mouth and rigid stance and etherealness and power that radiates from Its body; despite all of that—something feels…wrong. Off, in a way that you can’t really put your finger on when you look up from your bowed position. 

“Did I say that you could stop?” The voice rumbles, otherworldly and deep, makes your very bones quiver at the sound of it, as you quickly bow once more. You can feel your whole body starting to shake at the sheer unthinkableness of it all, eyes flooding with tears as they stare blankly at the sheets in front of you. You flinch when there’s suddenly a soft laugh, obnoxious and earthly, but you don’t dare break from your position again. 

“Aw man, I didn’t think you’d go back to bowing.” The angel laughs, and from your peripheral you can see It rest a hand over its belly. “I was just screwing with you. You can look at me—only if it doesn’t hurt your eyes too much, that is.” 

When you look up, finally, the angel looks a bit more…human. He stands there, great and tall, but the light from him has lessened. He winks three out of his six eyes at you, hands on his hips as he grins at you. You don’t know whether to smile or cower in fear at the entity in front of you. Instead, you settle on your bottom, hands folded politely in your lap to keep him from seeing the way you shake all over. You blink curious eyes up at the creature, at the otherworldly being, wonder what a mere sinner like you did to garner such heavenly attention. 

“How may I serve you?” You ask softly, voice barely audible, but the angel catches it anyway. You can tell by the way he smiles, although, it doesn’t calm your nerves much. If anything, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise to attention, but you blame it on the etherealness of a being that does not belong in the chaos of your world. 

“Serve me,” the angel repeats slowly, his head nodding gently as if taking in your words. “There are quite a few ways that I need you, human, to serve me.” He spits the word human out as if it disgusts him, as if it the mere mention of it on his tongue burns it to hellfire. 

You can only blink at him, something like unease settling into the pit of your belly, but you push it aside. Your higher being, the Divine, has always tested you, and you’re sure that the nervousness is only another portion of your humanity. People always fear things that are greater than them, things that they cannot so easily understand. The fear in your entire being is only your humanity bleeding through your very pores. 

“Of course, angel…?” You steer off, looking to him in question. You realize you don’t know this angel, don’t recognize him from the scriptures, one of six eyes and shockingly white hair. But the angel only blinks at you before recognition lights his face, and he holds a finger up as he spills his name out for you. 

“Satoru.” He says, winking once more, unsettlingly, with his many eyes. You only bow to him again, if only to look away from his many pupils, his too watchful gaze. 

“Angel Satoru.” You repeat, forehead touching your mattress, the scratchy covers that adorn it. Satoru just waves a hand nonchalantly as you sit back up, as he folds his arms over his robe covered chest. 

“Satoru is just fine.” He huffs, seemingly annoyed, but you don’t question him on it. After all, he sought you out, an angel, a messenger. Obviously this trivial conversation bores such an ancient creature such as himself, and you shouldn’t trouble him with your humane and unnecessary conversation. He speaks up, seemingly tired of the lull in conversation. 

“Anyway, I was sent here to tell you that you’re going to be the savior of the human race itself.” Satoru says it so causally, that it takes you a few beats to swallow the gravity of his words. You blink, heart suddenly palpitating in your chest, your mouth running dry. You’re going to save all of humanity? But you’re just a measly servant of Their Divineness, nothing special about you to warrant such a task. But the longer you think about it, the more willing you become to the idea, realizing that all of your hardships, all of your prayers, all of your devotion finally has paid off. 

You smile, big and wide, sitting up on your knees to be as eye level as you can with the angel. You open your mouth, ready to accept the burden that comes with saving everyone, but he holds up a pale, too long finger. 

“But only if you mate with me.” Satoru tacks on, his smile small, barely there. By the time you blink, its gone, and you wonder if the deviousness that oozed from his body was only a thing of your mind. An angel could never hold such evil, such contempt in their hearts. It must be your human fear muddying your perception. 

“What do you—what do you mean?” You stammer, blinking once, twice, eyes suddenly unseeing as his words hit you like a freight train. It already is jarring enough knowing that you are now the sole savior of the human race, but…mating? With an innocent, pure angel like himself? 

“The human race is going to go extinct in only a matter of hours.” Satoru starts, lowering his head slightly as if ashamed to have to share such devastating news, his hands folded in front of him. “I was sent by the Divine Themself to bless your womb. You will bare a child that will thenceforth save humanity after our consummation.” 

“Consummation?” You parrot, eyes so big you fear they may fall from your head. You swallow thickly, face suddenly burning as the reality of what’s happening, what will happen, starts to make your stomach twist in anxiety. “As in,”

“As in, we have to mate. Have sex. Together.” Satoru spells out for you slowly, that devious smirk creeping up ever so slightly on the corners of his lips. But when you blink this time, it stays there on his thin mouth. You’re not sure how to feel at the moment—what happens if you say no? Will the entirety of the human race die because of your fears, because of your selfishness? You’re bound to have sex at least once in your life, on the night you marry. Why not get something greater out of it by fulfilling your duty as the savior of humankind? 

“And I will save humanity by doing this?” You ask Satoru, lowering yourself to sit on your knees. Your body suddenly feels deflated of air as the prospects of saving everyone has come at a greater cost you hadn’t originally thought of. You look up at the blindingly bright angel, his light sharpening as the seconds go on, until you have to lower your gaze once more to your bed. 

“You will.” He states, seemingly vibrating at the prospect of it all. 

You should wait. You should ask the Divine if this is truly what they have in store for you, to send you some kind of confirmation that this is the path that you must take. But you cannot doubt Their angels, Their messengers. It will only show just how much how little faith you must have in Them, and you’ve always been a believer. 

“Whatever it takes.” You say, suddenly bold, despite the fact that your chin quivers at the idea. 

You’ve never done something like before, unsure of what you should do at this stage. You’ve kept yourself pure, knew the dangers your soul would be in if you were to have…sexual relations before marriage, and you hadn’t yet been married off to the church. Your future husband would understand, right? That you’re still pure if it’s an angel that touches your womb first?

You’ve never even touched yourself before. You’ve fought the temptations of the flesh, the yearning in the pits of your belly during the late night hours. You barely even look at your exposed parts when you wash, fearing that even staring at your naked skin for a second too long would send your soul to the pits of hell.

“You’ve never had sex before, have you?” Satoru asks, his voice a husk, his mouth barely moving. He takes slow steps toward you until he towers over you on the edge of the bed. You shake your head slowly, feeling swallowed whole by his intense gaze, breathing shakily at what’s to come. Will it hurt? Will you be punished for feeling pleasure?

“You poor thing,” Satoru whispers, dipping his head down until his nose brushes your own, earning him a gasp. “You’re completing missing out on the pleasure of consuming mortal flesh between your teeth, your fingers, your legs.”

You choke at his lewd words. Was this how the messiah was born? Created by the world, through such lewd words and careful, decisive action? Satoru runs a slow hand up the expanse of your leg before he grips it in his unnaturally hot palms. He guides your legs from under you, pulling down by your calfs until your legs dangle from the edge of the bed, your back plastered against the sheets.

Your eyes are wide. Your heart is in your throat. You’re not sure you’re even breathing as you look up at the otherworldly creature. He doesn’t look so holy in this moment, with his eyes glazed over with lust, his lids heavy, his bottom lip slick with spit when his tongue darts out to wet it. You don’t feel pure, or holy, or sanctified. You feel like one of the women on the corner, flaunting their assets for the attention of men.

Satoru inches your dress over your head, exposing pieces of you, little by little. Your panties are plain, your bra worn and ill fitting, but it gets the job done. Satoru reaches for your bra next, and you find yourself shooting out a hand to grab him quickly, breath caught in your throat. He turns his many eyed gaze to yours quickly, that purity bleeding with the sneer that barely finds his pink lips.

“Is touching my breasts a necessary part of the consummation?” You ask breathily. Satoru only stills, blinking each eye at different times, unnerves you. He thins his lips for a moment, trying to gather his words, before he smiles softly, disarmingly. He doesn’t take his hand off your breast. 

“The flesh needs to be fully exposed in order to bless the consummation. Every piece of you needs to be open for the Divine to see your willingness to save your people.” The words flow off of his tongue, easy and smooth as silk. You only hesitate for another second before you slowly let go of his hands. Satoru doesn’t make a move until your hands rest awkwardly beside your head, your gaze focused on the cracked ceiling above you. 

You think he laughs, but you ignore the sound, focused more on the feeling of him lifting you just barely, nimble, hot fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. It falls unceremoniously to the floor when he pulls the straps from your arms, and you go to cover yourself up with your arms, before you remember that the Divine is watching. So you stop, arms tucked tightly into your sides, mouth set in a firm line, determined to get this over with, save everyone around you. 

“Such a pretty set you got on you,” Satoru whispers, making your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment. He only laughs, louder and unabashed this time, leaning over you to nuzzle his warm nose against your cheek. The closeness of him unsettles you deep in your belly. Something is off about him, something about him makes you want to flee, lock yourself in a confessional, pray for forgiveness for not being able to save humanity. 

But instead, you lay there. Pliant and open, bottom lip tucked into your mouth as the angel begins to slide your cotton panties down your thighs. He throws them across the room, but you’re not sure where, your eyes glued to the ceiling. Two crack in one panel, a water stain on the one two panels to the right. 

Satoru brushes a finger through the thatch of hair covering your mound, murmuring something to himself. You don’t catch it, and you’re not too sure you want to in the first place. His fingers are rough, his grip as he combs his fingertips through the bush a little too hard. You wince, hands inching from your sides to his own, as you glance down at him from the length of your body. 

“Are you going to stick it in?” You whisper, your voice a tremble. Its a terrifying thing, to ask such a dirty question, to be looked at by so many pairs of eyes sitting on just one face. There are two in the regular spot, two on his forehead, two beside his nose. They all stare at you, unblinking, a wash of unsettling blue staring back at you, seemingly looking through you all at once. 

“You don’t want this to hurt, do you?” Satoru asks, getting on his knees before you, an act of worship, pulling your thighs a bit closer to the edge until his mouth hovers over your mound. You suck in a breath at the proximity, his kneeling, biting at your lips as you struggle with looking at him, with finding another crack in the ceiling. 

“No,” you whisper, voice barely audible as you rest your hands on your stomach, unsure of what to do with them. Satoru tuts at you, resting his cheek against your thigh, one hand reaching up to hold your own, the other inching your thighs open bit by bit. 

“Then let me do what I have to do to make this comfortable for you, human.” He says softly, voice a comfort that makes you sigh before you settle into the sheets. You nod your head to him, trusting the angel, knowing that you’re in the safest hands across the entire universe. 

Satoru bends your leg back until your knee touches your chest, exposes your pussy to him wholly. You try not to cringe at the openness, the vulnerability, but you have to remember to stay open in order to satisfy the Divine. So you hold your leg, let him brush his palm over your cunt, engulf it within his hot grip. 

He cups you, softly, before pulling his fingers back, tracing a single one up the expanse of your pussy. His touch is gentle, barely there, a featherlight thing that makes your entire body tense up at the feeling of it. You want to make a noise, want to tell him to get it all over with, but you sit there, obedient, always willing to serve, even if it costed you your own comfortability. 

“I always forget how tight these can get,” Satoru mutters under his breath, as he breaches a single finger inside of you. You’re too focused on the foreign sensation to question his words, too busy trying to remember how to breathe through your nose. Its not uncomfortable, just weird, to have something settling so deep in your body. He holds it there for only a second, before he brings his finger out, pushing it back inside of you as you suck in another breath. 

He continues that motion, slow, steady, until you feel yourself starting to relax more, around him, in your own skin. It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel as good as you were maybe hoping it to feel. 

Almost as if reading your mind, Satoru slides in a second finger. This one burns, makes your hole clench down around him, tight, your eyes clamped shut. You hiss through your teeth, gripping your leg firmly as you try to adjust to the sensation. 

“Cmon, its just two fingers,” Satoru chides, pouting between your legs, and you look down at him, realizing just how close his face is. His head rests on your thigh, and he has an up close view of how your hole sucks in his finger, how your clit twitches with every blow of his breath against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You squeeze the hand that holds your own, whimpering low in your throat when he crooks his fingers up inside of you. 

“But they hurt,” you whisper, mouth forming a pout as he continues to slowly pump his fingers inside of you. But, the longer he takes, the more he twists and curves his hot digits, the more the pain starts to subside. It even…starts to feel good at one point, makes your body melt into the bed as his fingers drag hypnotically against the softness of your walls. 

“I thought you said whatever it takes?” Satoru mutters, pout on his mouth, as he glances up at you with just two eyes, the others still focused on the slick that begins to pool around his fingers. He raises an eyebrow at that, looking up at you with all six eyes, but you’re looking into your own head now. He strokes against something without ever meaning to, makes your hips jerk against his hand, a cry getting caught in your throat. 

“What,” you have to swallow the saliva that pools inside your mouth. “What is that?” You whisper, before your voice breaks out into another harsh cry when Satoru presses his fingers incessantly against it. Your eyes squeeze shut and you grab his hand so tightly in your own, you fear you may break his fingers. 

“Oh, this?” Satoru sounds almost bored, his tone dry, as if he’s not assaulting you with every stroke of that one spot thats making you see stars. You sob, voice shaky, feeling your entire body start to tremble as a wet sound starts to emit from his fingers fucking your cunt open. 

“Yeah, that.” You whine, unable to help yourself from grinding down on his fingers, chasing that pleasure with every passing second. “What is it?”

“That’s your sweet spot, baby.” Satoru purrs, nuzzling his nose against your mound, inhaling the scent there. He dips his head down, ever so slightly, until his mouth, his breath, grazes that bundle of nerves that you try to avoid during your darkest times. Your entire body jerks, feeling a weird pressure in your lower abdomen, building and building into something you’re not too sure of. 

“Wait, I don’t—I think I’m—Satoru,” you whine out his name, tears welling in your eyes as you try to hold onto him, onto the bed, your own chest, anything you can to ground yourself. The angel only smiles, except he doesn’t look much like an angel in this very moment. 

“It’s okay, pretty. You’re just having your first orgasm.” He whispers against your bush, smiling when he feels your cunt starting to contract around his fingers, pulsing. And to think it only took him just a few minutes to reduce you to such a sloppy, needy mess. 

You cum around his fingers with a shout, whole body shaking so hard that your vision goes black for a few moments. Your own voice sounds muffled in your ears, and you think you may reach the Divine Themself in that very moment, feel a connection that you’ve never felt before, so strong, pulling on you so intensely that it takes minutes for your soul, your mind, to reach your body again. 

And when it does—something isn’t right. 

“You humans are so easy to trick.” Satoru is saying and—and it doesn’t sound like him much, anymore. You grit your teeth as feeling starts to come back to your body, feel a thicker, hotter intrusion than the moments before. His cock is inside of you, resting fat and heavy in what feels like you’re stomach. 

You fight to clear your blurry vision, hands still scratching at your sheets as you swallow thickly. You blink and you blink, and you’re not sure if you’re seeing everything right. 

Satoru’s barely visible halo, illuminated only when the light shone down on it right, was gone. His lightness, in general, completely dissipated. He no longer wore that white robe that rivaled the starkness of his hair. 

Instead, he had horns; thick and silver tipped, spiraling from his temples like a ram. The tongue that he licks his bottom lip with is forked, his breath too hot to be normal. He’s naked now, and you can see the swirling ink decorated on his body, a symbol that tells you exactly where his soul resides. In Evilness itself. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked on you!” Satoru laughs, emphasizing his words with another thrust. You such in a breath, your lungs feeling as though they have been squeezed to capacity inside of your chest. You lay there in muted horror, that you let a demon tempt you, that you like the feeling of his mushroomed cockhead pressing against your sweet spot.

“Evil incarnate,” you whisper, entire body stiff, but he loosens you up so nicely. Pulls your arms around his neck, nuzzles his face against your own. He presses a wet kiss to your gaping mouth, fanged teeth scraping against the thin flesh there until you dribble crimson down your chest. He licks it up greedily, humming under his breath as he begins rocking inside of you, cock fat and heavy and—oh Divine, was it pierced? 

Your soul is damned. 

“To think you’re saving the human race with such a tight, messy little cunt; it’s funny, really.”  Satoru continues speaking as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He presses the entire length of his body against your own, trapping you underneath him. Honestly, you’re not sure you’d be strong enough to push him off of you anyway, the thought making your stomach turn in disgust. But its weighed out by the lust—the all consuming, Evil, lust—when he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit. 

“You humans always think you’re so important to the world. But really, you’re just a pawn in Their game. We all are.” Satoru sneers down at you through a grin, his thumb unrelenting. His hips slap against your own, creating a lewd sound in the silent house, your weak bed frame creaking with every thrust of his cock inside of you. 

“Get out.” You mutter weakly, eyes squeezed shut as you try to fight down the pleasure, the temptation to have, what he called, an orgasm once more. But Satoru, with his six eyes, seems to see right through you. He grins so big, squeezing your cheeks tightly together until your eyes are forced open, forced to look into the horror that is this Evil in front of you. 

“But you’re so close to reaching your second orgasm.” He says, almost cheerily, holding his hips against yours after he slams inside of you. It makes his tip press right against that weak spot, your lower body jerking as you try to fight it off, the pleasure, the way your body has never felt so close to divinity than before now, with something so evil. 

“Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?” Satoru whispers into your ear, slowly grinding himself against you, putting pressure on that sweet spot, on your clit with languid rubs. Your eyes fill with tears, your entire body trembling. You have to fight it. You can’t let him win. But it feels so good—

“To be filled with dick, to tighten up around it as you cum all over me?” He whispers, puckering your lips with his hands squeezing your cheeks, before he pecks wet, messy kisses against you. “Don’t you wanna know what it feels like to be filled with my cum?” He grins against your mouth, laughing when you shove him away as much as you can. 

“No!” You cry out, but you’re not sure if you’re talking to him, or yourself at the moment. Satoru seems to be able to read your inner dilemma, as he starts rocking his hips against you, agonizing, his thumb rubbing faster and faster until you’re feeling that same sensation from earlier. 

“Oh, so you’re saying you want me to cum on you instead? Hm, I don’t mind sparing some for your bush. Always had a soft spot for pretty ones, like yours.” Satoru pets it gently before he moves back to your clit, applying even more pressure than before. You feel like you’re going to burst at any second, that you’re going to let Evil win. But if its so bad, why does it make you feel so—

“But I’m going to cum inside of you, either way. Just so you can see what you’re really missing out on.” Satoru winks at you, watches how you unfurl around him, how your entire body locks up as your orgasm begins to wash over you. 

“Burn,” you grit out through clenched teeth, before a cry is ripped from your throat when he begins battering your sweet spot with a renewed kind of intensity. It only prolongs your orgasm for that much longer. He’s a sadist, as he laughs under his breath at your crying, licking away your tears with a forked tongue, the hot metal on his cock seemingly slipping deeper and deeper inside of you, until you’re merged into one being. 

“You’re gonna burn so good with me, baby.” Satoru promises, and you fear, that you have let Evil consume you. It’s not that bad, though, you think, if its always going to feel this good. 

thank you all so much for reading! kind comments/likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[crybaby-bkg]

crybaby-bkg presents: gojober!

𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕠𝕛𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣!

𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣

𝕓𝕪 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 "𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖" 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥.

𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕚𝕔.

𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕖𝕓𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤, 𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕜𝕋𝕠𝕜.

𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥, 𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕘 "𝕔𝕣𝕪𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪.𝕓𝕜𝕘.𝕘𝕠𝕛𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣"

𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕤/𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕜/𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝔻ℕ𝕀

𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝔸𝕠3

𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 - 𝒸𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇

omega gojo x beta reader

synopsis: your neighbor is an attention whore! he thinks that because he's an alpha, he's allowed to bring over whatever company he wants, without ever telling them to shut their mouths. little do you know, that the noises that you're hearing on the other side of your wall, is coming from him …

𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝓌𝑜 - 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒

fairy gojo x human reader

synopsis: every few hundred years, a new faerie king is crowned. as a gift, a human that has a succinct connection to them will find themselves in the throes of the new king's celebration. unfortunately for you, the music from the celebration is all too alluring to resist.

𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 - 𝒹𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓎

angel gojo x religious reader

synopsis: you read your scriptures. you pray every night for forgiveness of your mortal sins. but you don't expect for an actual angel to come to you one day, much less with the explanation that you have to mate with him in order to save the entirety of the world.

𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 - 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝑒

serial killer gojo x student reader

synopsis: gojo has never quite been right. but he feels even more turned around when he finds you, knowing that he has to protect the innocence that is you. the only problem is; you don't know how to say thank you.